


For the Benefit of Pigs

by zalzaires



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Canon - Manga, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Madness, like anyone is surprised
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 07:02:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zalzaires/pseuds/zalzaires
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skulls have hollow eyes, and besides that, only room for two. That's simply not enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Benefit of Pigs

**Author's Note:**

> I have a whole lot of mixed feelings about Justin Law's plotline, but what I do have some hella warm feelings for is the chance to write something precisely like this.

Physical eccentricities were like the bratty little cousin of the madness. They tagged along two paces behind; it wasn't until the madness had started to strangle out what remained of what he would call – normal thoughts, maybe, but they were something far away and more a stranger every time – that his skin started to itch itch itch like maybe he should start peeling it all off.

And why not?

He always did wonder how strange it was that he was so sharp on the inside – he was the blade, he was the chain and lucette and the lolling twitching emptiness of cleaved skin meat bone – and he was nothing soft and giving or warm, like skin. 

He runs a thumb over the line of his jaw, wondering if he should strip away all the soft bits so that the bone can stand stark, white, rigid – more like what he is. His finger catches on a very tiny switch. It's a familiar make to the on/off of the little egg of wires and plastic saying _'lub dub'_ in the place of his heartbeat. 

He's not sure what to do. What's on and what's off? Some switches can't be turned back, after all –

_He realized quite quickly that a switch had been flipped in his head, and that it wasn't going to get turned back. Like the arm of a jealous lover, it wrapped around his arms and his throat, whispered sweet nothings of disruption whenever he tried to edge himself back into a semblance of someone else, someone who wore skulls but was so much more alive._

– He scratches at the switch but he can't get it to turn. Was that why he never turned off the music before? It was too difficult?

'Too difficult' was a good phrase. It used to be one he didn't even acknowledge. Nothing was too difficult when he'd already went further alone than anyone had ever believed possible of him – that scale didn't apply anymore.

A lot of things were difficult now.

There was blood crusting around his nails, and when he tried to find the switch again it wasn't there. All he did was smear his fingers red. He held his hand to the cut spot and waited, while his palm turned tacky, for it to coagulate. Stick, crust, scab, then heal unless he maybe would decide no, I don't want it to, and tore the skin again. He'll wait on it and see.

He thought about about how truthful it would be to wear his skull bare, but something new in him chastised the idea. No, never skulls, not anymore. Skulls have hollow eyes, and besides that, only room for two. That's simply not enough.

 

Three is perfect.

Three is, in fact, pious – everything the skullbound fellow aspired for, yes? Why, these threes of eyes that peered out from his adornments – he was doing a service to the dead.

A vigil, of sorts, for that which he'd never be again. Just one last respectful jest for the benefit of pigs.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of mixed feelings about Justin Law and his plotline, but I do delight in getting to write things like this regardless.


End file.
